


Speak Easy (Lay Low)

by bluehairedharlequin



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1930s, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Mob, Anal Sex, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Canon-Typical Violence, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Gang Violence, Irish Steve Rogers, M/M, Morally Ambiguous Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-War, Threats of Violence, Top Steve Rogers, irish bucky barnes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:41:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29324883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluehairedharlequin/pseuds/bluehairedharlequin
Summary: “He loves watching Steve like this, his gravitas so much heavier than his slender frame, king of his own court.”~There’s problems around every goddamn corner, and it’s Bucky’s job to foresee them, so neither of them ends up dead or in jail.It’s been a helluva long week though.(Or, I wanted to write a mob AU! so I went and wrote a mob AU!).
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	Speak Easy (Lay Low)

**Author's Note:**

> I can only offer you one explanation for this - I wanted to so I did. I was actually writing something else that ended up frustrating the hell out of me, and so started writing this as stress relief, and now I’ve actually written this instead.
> 
> Is any of this historically accurate? Probably not.  
> Did I use conspicuous amounts of Google Maps to look up street names? Yes I did.  
> Do I even really know what decade this is set in? Not really!
> 
> This is a mob AU! though, so please heed the descriptive TW's at the bottom. I don’t want to upset anyone. (I'll put relevant warnings at the end of each chapter).

Bucky slants a look at Steve under his eyelids. He’s reclining in his chair, looking bored. That’s usually not a good sign. Micheal Finnegan is sat opposite Steve, but with the looks he keeps shooting Bucky, leaning against Steve’s desk, looming, he’s more intimidated by Bucky himself than Steve. That’s his first mistake. 

Finnegan looks terrified; Bucky can see the sweat on his brow, and he’s got one hand gripped around the desk, knuckles white. If Bucky was a gambling man, he’d put money on Finnegan’s shirt being soaked with sweat under his jacket.

Steve ashes his cigarette idly. He pins Finnegan under his gaze, but when Finnegan’s gaze flicks fearfully back to Bucky less than three seconds later, he sighs and puts the cigarette out on Finnegan’s hand.

“Jesus fuck, Rogers!” Finnegan yanks his burnt hand back, clutching it to his chest. “Whatcha do that for?”

“You’re not paying attention to me while I’m trying to talk to you. Not very polite of you,” Steve’s tone is cool. Bucky fights the urge to smirk. He looks down at his fingernails instead, keeping a polite expression on his face. He’s not in the mood to get harassed by Steve the second this meeting ends.

Finnegan’s really sweating now. Bucky can see the individual droplets trickling down towards his eyebrow.

“You’re late, again. It kinda makes me think you’re not that bothered with keeping your business and your family safe.” Steve raises an eyebrow at Finnegan. “I’m sure the Italians would just love a… _chat_ with you about it.”

Finnegan looks aghast. The only thing that’s going in his favour is that he hasn’t opened his mouth yet. 

“I- I’m sorry, Rogers, I just d- don’t have the money right now, I would if I- I could, you _know that_ , I’m beggin’ ya, I just need a little more time…”

…Maybe Bucky jumped the gun there. Steve hates excuses. That’s Finnegan’s second mistake. Bucky wonders if he’ll make a third.

“See, if this was your first time begging me for more time,” Steve shrugs, “I’d probably be a little lenient. You know I don’t like pulling ya in here like this. But… it ain’t the first time, is it? Hell, it’s not even the third. At this point, you’re a pain in my ass. And I gotta deal with enough of those without you addin’ to the pile.”

Steve leans back in his chair and takes a sip of his whiskey. Bucky pushes himself off the desk, and scoops Steve’s cigarettes off the sideboard and tosses them over to Steve. Steve nods in response, and Bucky grins a little internally. He’d normally get a soft look, but only in private. They’ve both got reputations to protect, after all.

Bucky settles himself in his usual armchair in the corner of the room, and lights his own cigarette. He loves watching Steve like this, his gravitas so much heavier than his slender frame, king of his own court.

Finnegan looks cowed, but he’s wisely decided to keep his mouth shut. He shifts in his seat, clearly uncomfortably pinned between Steve’s stony gaze on his face, and Bucky’s own weighing on his back.

“So, Micheal, here’s what we’re going to do. You’ve got 24 hours to stump up the money, and if you don’t… we’re gonna have a serious problem. Am I making myself clear?” Finnegan nods, shaky. “James, remind me of Mr. Finnegan’s lovely family. I can’t picture them.”

Bucky exhales a steam of smoke towards the ceiling. He shifts heavily in his chair, making sure that Finnegan can hear him moving. By the tightening of Finnegan’s shoulders, his little intimidation tactic is working.

Bucky smirks. “Mr. Finnegan here is married to the lovely Mary Finnegan, works at O’Connor’s automat on Lafayette, and they have two _lovely_ children. Maeve and John; both attend St. John’s on Monroe. John’s got a wonderful head for maths, according to his teachers, and Maeve’s won two penmanship awards in the last couple years.”

Steve hums. Finnegan inhales sharply. Bucky wonders what his face looks like right now.

“You must be very proud of them,” and Steve’s voice is _silky,_ and Bucky knows this is not the time or the place, but goddamn he loves Steve’s voice when it gets like this, “they sound like wonderful children. Lots of promise there. Long, bright happy lives ahead of them.”

Steve pauses and lights himself a cigarette. The tension in the air is thick enough to cut with a knife, and Bucky can’t help but smirk. Steve catches his gaze, but his face doesn’t so much as twitch as he turns his gaze back to Finnegan.

“24 hours, Finnegan. Get the fuck out of my office.”

Bucky unfolds himself from his chair, pinches the cigarette off, and claps Finnegan on the shoulder. He shakes like a _leaf,_ and Bucky can see Steve’s satisfied smirk out of the corner of his eye. Finnegan stumbles out of his chair, blathering promises, and Bucky holds the door open for him. He nearly falls through it, and Bucky plasters his most politely threatening smile on his face as Finnegan staggers through the door.

“See ya soon, Mikey,” he murmurs, and fights the urge to light up when he hears Steve chuckle behind him. He closes the door with a sharp _‘snap’_ and turns to face Steve, still lounging in his chair like a king.

“Well, I think you’ve put the fear of God into _him_ Stevie,” and he circles the desk to push Steve’s chair back and settle himself between Steve’s legs, leaning back against the desk, “and that should filter back through to Shaughnessy and his lot in the next couple of days.”

Steve runs his hand gently up and down Bucky’s thigh, looking up at him. Steve’s got a furrow between his brows, and Bucky reaches out to smooth it with his thumb. Steve sighs and stubs his cigarette out in the ashtray, leaning around Bucky to do so.

“Mmm, I hope so. Keep an ear out for that, won’t you? I don’t want any shit sneaking up on me.”

“When I have I ever let anything sneak up on you, huh?,” and he smiles down at Steve, “I’ve got Pat Ryan to keep a little eye on that lot, he’ll let me know if he hears anything.”

Steve links his fingers through Bucky’s then, and pulls his hand towards him, pressing a brief kiss on Bucky’s knuckles. 

There’s a knock on the door.

“Boss?”

“Yeah, come in.”

Bucky doesn’t bother moving as Sean enters the room. Steve presses another kiss to his knuckles, and turns to look at Sean.

“Books for me to look over?” he directs at Sean, who nods.

“Yeah, just the takings and losses from the last few weeks of the boxing matches. Shouldn’t take long.”

Steve hums in response. Bucky pushes himself off the desk, and goes to grab his hat from the stand next to the door. He shrugs his jacket on and smirks when Steve slides his eyes over the line of his shoulders in it. It’s a good thing Sean is facing away from him, because that means he can swipe his tongue over his lower lip and smirk at Steve. Steve raises an eyebrow in return, but Bucky can see a little bit of heat in his eyes.

“I’ll leave you gents to it. I gotta go talk to a couple of the guys about the bars.” Sean continues faffing with his ledgers, but Steve looks Bucky in the eye and nods.

“Check in with me later, James. I talked with O’Reilly about somethin’ for them, and I wanna know what you think.”

Bucky nods, blowing Steve a kiss behind Sean’s back as he leaves. He closes the door on Steve’s eye roll and reluctant smile.

He slopes out of the building, lighting another cigarette as he steps out onto the street. He’s not due to meet Murphy for another 40 minutes, but anything’s better than listening to Sean drone figures for the next half an hour. Especially as he can’t feel up Steve in the meantime. 

He checks his with again and figures he’s got enough time to stop off at his tobacconist for another couple cigars before his meeting. He leaves the shop with three of his favourites, and three of Steve’s, and begins to make his way over to Murphy’s place.

He’s there after a few minutes, and when he bangs on the door, it takes only seconds for the man himself to swing the door open. 

“Barnes! You don’t know the meaning of running behind time, do ya? Jesus, you’re more punctual than my da’s stopwatch, and he fixed that shite himself. Come on in.” Bucky moves into the bar, takes his hat off and settles himself down on a stool. “Can I getcha anything?”

Murphy’s ducked behind the bar, and is fiddling with a couple of glasses. He plonks two of them on the sticky bar top and raises a bushy eyebrow at Bucky.

“Whatever horse piss you’re callin’ whiskey these days, ta.”

Murphy nods, and pours them both a hefty measure. Bucky picks his up and clinks it against Murphy’s and they both drink in silence for a moment.

“Whatcha here for, Barnes? Not like yourself to be running around, talking to proprietors personally like.”

Bucky rubs a hand against his eyebrow. “You hear about the bar down on Bainbridge?”

Murphy nods, looking solemn. 

“That’s why I’m here. I need to know if you’ve had anyone sniffing around here, weird like, or askin’ questions that ought not be asked. I need to figure out who I need to talk to to stop that shite happening when the joint’s full. You’ve more of an ear to the ground than I do.”

Murphy snorts.

“I ain’t got more of an ear to the ground than you. You’re the all-knowing James Barnes! I doubt a single cop round here scratches his balls without you knowing about it.”

Bucky shrugs.

“Sure, but I ain’t here on a Saturday night, serving people. Thought if I came down personally, folks might be a little happier to chat about it. Feel listened to.”

Murphy nods, and finishes his whiskey off. He dumps the glass in the sink and leans on the bar, looking Bucky straight in the face.

“Your boy concerned?”

“My _boy_ relies on me for information. So that’s what I’m doing. This is a social call; I’m not here to flick through your books. I’m just tryin’ to get a sense of what happened and whether it’s something to look out for. Something I need to have some contingencies for.” Bucky rolls the still full glass between his palms. When he looks up at Murphy, the man’s looking away into the distance. “So there is something.”

“You don’t miss a trick, do ya?” Murphy sighs, tapping on the bar top absentmindedly. “There’s been a couple of blokes in there, the last few weeks. Not the usual kind; they sit in a corner all night, and don’t approach anyone. Don’t dance, or chat with no-one. And when anyone approaches them, they get sent away. Don’t make no trouble, pay their tab an’ all, but… what kinda bloke comes to a queer bar and acts like it’s a regular one? ’S strange.”

“No-one you recognise?,” Bucky’s not surprised when Murphy shakes his head. “Hmm. Okay. Thanks for talking to me anyway. I ‘ppreciate it.”

Bucky stands, puts his hat back on. He takes a couple dollar bills from his wallet and slides them across the bar to Murphy. When he tries to wave them off, Bucky slides them under the glass. He tips his hat to Murphy, and starts to make his way to the next bar to have the same conversation.

***

Bucky raps on Steve’s office door. It’s their secret knock, and Bucky cocks half an ear for two seconds. There’s no responding knock, so Bucky’s free to breeze in like he owns the joint.

Steve’s lit by the glow of the lamp on his desk, making his hair look luminescent in the dim of the room. He’s poring over what looks like more ledgers, but he looks up when Bucky sits down in his favourite armchair in the corner of the office.

“Whatcha sitting all the way over there for?”

“You look busy. And I’m tryin’ to be good and not distract you.”

“You’re always distracting. Come and be distracting over _here_ instead of over there.”

Bucky smirks. Steve’s pouting at him from over the desk. Pouting, like he’s not the most powerful man in their little patch of the world. Bucky stretches, just a little, runs his hand through his hair, and lolls in the armchair, spreads his legs a little wider. Steve’s eyes roam all over him and he delightfully tracks the gaze. He’s always been a bit of a showoff for Steve. Sue him.

“Aww, doll, my legs are tired, I’ve been traipsing round half of Brooklyn for ya today. Don’t make a tired man get back up out of his chair.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. His shirtsleeves are rolled up to his slender elbows, jacket chucked over the back of his chair. Bucky kinda just wants to peel his suspenders off and sit in his lap, but he loves being a shit even more. He smiles back at Steve’s unimpressed expression and loosens his tie, flicking the top couple buttons open. Steve’s eyes narrow and Bucky notches the smile up a little more, looking as innocent as possible.

He fishes his cigarettes out of his pocket. “Got a light for me?”

Steve throws his pack of matches at him. They hit him smack in the face, and Bucky can’t help it, he bursts out laughing. Steve’s grumbling a little, but he’s getting out from behind the desk, so Bucky considers that a success.

“Need me to light it for ya, as well?” Steve _finally_ comes over, and sits down in Bucky’s lap, settling his thighs on the outside of Bucky’s significantly thicker ones. They’re nose to nose like this, sharing the same breath, and Bucky’s arm comes up to hold Steve around the waist.

“Mmm, if you’re offering sugar, that’d be swell.” Bucky leans in to kiss him, but Steve twists away.

“No, no, my man wants a smoke, and I’ve got to make sure his every little need is catered to, god forbid he does a _thing_ for himself, it would really be much to hope for,” He’s so _ornery,_ but fuck if Bucky don’t love him anyway, “so I’m very busy right now making sure his damn cigarette’s lit. Honestly, I’m amazed he doesn’t want me to smoke it for him too.”

For all his complaining, Steve’s still fished the pack of matches out, strikes one against the strip and is now holding it out to Bucky expectantly, one eyebrow raised. Bucky leans in, and cups the flame with his free hand, and inhales. The end of the cigarette lights up, and they’re so close that Bucky can see it reflected in Steve’s eyes.

He twists his hand to exhale, not wanting to blow smoke into Steve’s face, and when he turns back, Steve’s tossing the extinguished match on the floor. He just looks at Steve’s beloved face as Steve runs his hands slowly up his arms, squeezing his biceps appreciatively. The touch makes Bucky shiver. 

Steve smirks at that, but loops his arms over Bucky’s shoulders. He leans in, pressing his mouth to Bucky’s throat, and Bucky can’t help the little gasp that escapes him when Steve _bites_. Steve’s nosing his collar out of the way now, moving his mouth up to behind Bucky’s ear, which he knows is his weakness, the fucker.

Bucky cants his hips up, just a little, and Steve’s answering hum is disapproving.

“Naw, Buck, you told me you were tired,” he’s slid his hands down from round Bucky’s neck and is now skimming them down Bucky’s side, the touch a little greedy, “so you just relax and have a nice smoke, huh?” Steve pinches a nipple as he scrapes his teeth gently over Bucky’s Adam's apple, and Bucky can feel his head begin to spin a little.

Steve always knows all the right buttons to push to make him putty. Hell, he installed half of them, they’ve been together so long. To make matters worse, he’s started to squirm in his lap a little, tiny little undulations that make Bucky’s breath stutter. He can hear Steve snicker in his ear, just before his mouth closes around the earlobe.

He lifts his hand to take another drag regardless, hand trembling a little, trying to fight his reactions to Steve’s ministrations. All that goes out the window though, when Steve’s hand slides down and cups Bucky’s cock through his trousers, rubbing his fingers over the head. Bucky’s arm tightens around him.

“Fuck, doll, you tryna kill me?,” and Steve just tightens his grip a little in response, “naw, you definitely are.”

Steve lifts his mouth from Bucky’s neck and shoves his hand through Bucky’s hair, cupping the back of his skull. He just _looks_ at Bucky, and all Bucky can feel is the intensity of his gaze. He’s sure his pupils are blown, can feel his chest heaving a little, and whatever Steve sees on his face, he clearly likes, because he leans in and claims Bucky’s mouth.

The kiss is a little rough, but _fuck_ , it’s perfect, and Bucky licks into Steve’s mouth like a dying man gasping for air. Steve’s teeth close around his lower lip, and Bucky hears himself whine. Steve groans a little in response, and the hand in Bucky’s hair tightens. His hips really jerk up then, and Steve yanks Bucky’s head back. He can feel his scalp protesting, but it slides heat down his spine, his cock throbbing.

Steve starts rubbing over the bulge in his trousers properly then, capable hands making Bucky’s cock drool. He can feel the damp spot on his underwear already. 

“Why, is it working?” Steve doesn’t even try to sound curious, the shit, he just sounds smug.

“Is it working, he says, like I’m not humping his hand like we’re kids again,” Steve yanks Bucky’s hair again in retaliation. Bucky groans. Steve grins at him, a little manic, and drags his hand out of Bucky’s hair to gently circle this throat. He squeezes, just a little, and Bucky can’t help it - he moans, eyes closed, head tipped back. He can picture the look on Steve’s face, the sonuvabitch.

Steve leans back in, getting real close to Bucky’s ear. “Well, I’d say turnabout’s fair play. You tease me, I get you back,” and suddenly Steve is sitting back on his lap, no longer touching Bucky at all, “you not enjoying your cigarette?” 

The sudden loss of Steve’s hands makes his eyes snap open. Steve’s looking innocently at him, head tipped inquisitively. He can still see Steve’s dark eyes though, black ringed by blue, and he’s not fooled by the casual posture. Sure enough, when he glances down, Steve’s trousers are tented at the crotch.

It makes his mouth water.

When he looks back up at Steve’s face, Steve’s got a sickly sweet smile on his face. That usually means a kinda trouble that Bucky _loves,_ so he takes a long drag off the cigarette, and tries to make himself sound as nonchalant as possible. 50/50 on it working, he reckons.

“It’s alright. I’m confused by what you mean by teasing though. I would _never_.” It doesn’t work; he sounds rough, fucked out, like all he needs is Steve’s hands on him and he loses control.

It’s _true_ , but Steve’s a bastard about it, and he hates (loves) giving him the ammunition.

“Oh?” And Steve’s got his eyebrows raised in faux surprise, “you don’t know what I mean? You sprawling in the chair, legs spread, open collar, looking every bit like you wanna get fucked six ways to Sunday? None of that ringing a bell?”

Bucky swallows, throat dry. Steve’s eyes track the movement, and he leans in, running his lips over the hinge of Bucky’s jaw, nipping at his ear. 

“I should beat your ass black and blue for being such a shit,” and Bucky can’t help it, his eyes flutter closed for a second at Steve’s silky tone, “mmm, of course you like the idea of that. Is that what you’re after, huh? Wanna be bent over my desk while I go to town on your ass, yeah?” He leans back.

Bucky can’t help it; he’s just staring at Steve, arousal heavy in his groin. His brain’s completely short-circuited at the image Steve’s putting in his head, how collected he looks, perched in Bucky’s lap, while he can’t even figure out up from down. 

Steve looks so smug, expression all knowing as he just looks back at Bucky. He trails a hand down Bucky’s face, so _gently_ , that Bucky whimpers. He’s mortified, but the look on Steve’s face nearly makes it worth it. Steve’s lit up, looking delighted and proud, and Bucky feels like a flower turning toward the sun. Inevitable. Necessary. 

Steve gives him another faux concerned look, and climbs out of Bucky’s lap. Bucky goes to follow, sheer reflex, but he’s pushed back into the armchair. He can only watch as Steve makes his way back to his desk, drinks Steve in as he leans against it.

Never mind that Bucky towers over him, Steve wears power like a cloak, and Bucky knows a supernova could occur next to him and he still wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off Steve. He looks so casual, legs crossed at the ankle, arms back, resting his weight on the desk. He can almost feel Steve’s gaze, like a physical caress, but he’s glued to the seat, watching helplessly as Steve palms his own cock through his slacks.

“Put out the cigarette and strip,” and before he’s even finished, Bucky’s stubbed the cigarette out in the ashtray next to the armchair, “and lock the door before you come over here. Unless you want someone to barge in and see me ruining your ass?”

Bucky shakes his head, urgent, and shoves his suspenders off his shoulders, toes his shoes off, losing his trousers and shirt soon after. When he’s naked, he slinks towards the door, shifting the heavy deadbolt into place. 

Steve hasn’t moved, and Bucky’s skin prickles under his heavy gaze. He rolls his shoulders, and stands up straight, flexing his arms a little, and he’s gratified when Steve inhales sharply. He watches Steve unconsciously lick his lips, and Bucky looks at him from under his lashes. No reason he should be the only one feeling helpless in their arousal.

“Get over here.” Steve’s voice is like gravel, and Bucky fights a shudder as he steps into Steve’s space.

Steve strokes a finger down Bucky’s chest, tracing over his own initials tattooed over Bucky’s heart, before flicking one of his nipples, and dragging his nails over the trail of hair that leads down to his cock. He’s still rubbing his cock through his trousers and Bucky feels lightheaded, desperate. Steve catches him sneaking glances down at Steve’s hand on his cock, and his smile gets _mean._

“You feelin’ okay, sweetheart? Only you’re lookin’ a little flushed. Can I help? Something you wanted, maybe?”

Bucky groans, clenching his hands into fists. He’s not begging this early, but he also feels like he might catch fire any second. His cock’s a furious red, bobbing front of him, and he whines when Steve gently scrapes a fingernail down it.

“Not so chatty now, huh? That’s okay sweetheart, I can understand that. You drive me crazy too. Lookit you, all pretty blue eyes and broad shoulders, just standing here in front of me, ‘cause I ain’t told ya you can touch,” Bucky swallows, Steve’s words just ratcheting the heat in his groin up just a little more, “so good for me. So good to me. You wanna bend over the desk, sweetheart, show me that pretty hole? I know you wanted something earlier, and you know I wanna give it to ya.”

Bucky doesn’t move; he wants that, he does, he wants it so bad he can taste it, but he’s desperate to get his mouth on Steve’s cock first. When he shows no sign of moving, Steve raises an eyebrow. He reaches out again, cups Bucky’s cheek in his hand, so tender Bucky thinks he might cry. 

“No? You gotta use your words, sugar, gotta tell me what you want.”

Bucky steels himself, opens his mouth -

There’s someone banging at the office door.

Steve looks _murderous._

“What?!”

“Boss?”

“Is someone dying?”

“No?,” the voice in the hallway - even though the haze, Bucky can place the voice as Johnny’s - sounds confused.

“Will someone die?”

There’s a pause.

“No?”

“Can this wait an hour?”

“Yeah?”

“Great! Come back then. I’m not in the mood to be disturbed anymore than you already have right now.”

There’s a silence on the other side of the door. Bucky flushes with embarrassment. Everyone knows the only time Steve doesn’t open the door is when he’s fucking Bucky. It’s not like they’re hiding anything from the rest of the lads, but it’s one thing to let people know you’re each other’s, and another to know everyone knows you’re about to get fucked over a desk. Johnny’s a fucking gossip too. He’ll head right back out and tell everyone him and Steve are too busy fucking to open the door. Bastard.

“Sorry boss. Sorry Barnes!”

Bucky grits his teeth, and Steve smirks up at him.

“Piss off Johnny! Come back in an hour, we’ll be decent then.”

Johnny makes some noise of affirmation to Steve’s words, and then it’s blissfully quiet again.

Steve tips his head at him, smiling a little ruefully, “mood’s kinda ruined now, huh?”

Bucky drops to his knees. Steve’s face breaks out into a smirk, and he leans down to kiss Bucky. It’s slow, deliberate, and Bucky gets lost in it for a few minutes; the rest of the world’s fallen away, and it’s just him and Steve, kissing.

He breaks away from Steve’s mouth, and presses his face against Steve’s cock, feeling the wool of Steve’s trousers under his lips. It twitches under them, and Bucky begins to lick, getting the wool damp. Steve breathes heavily, staring down at him with a look of awe on his face. It’s the kind of look that lights Bucky up from the inside, makes him feel all the things Steve tells him he is: beautiful and clever and loved.

“Please, doll, please let me suck you,” and Steve’s hands fly to his trousers, unbuttoning them and pushing them halfway down his thighs. He’s not wearing underwear, which always thrills Bucky a little, and his cock slaps against his stomach.

He’s seen Steve’s cock nearly as much as he’s seen his own, but it never gets old. Nor does he ever get sick of the sound of Steve’s sigh when he first wraps his lips around the head of his cock, tonguing the slit, feeling a little bit of pre-come ooze onto his tongue.

Steve, for his part, slides his hands into Bucky’s hair and leans back against the desk. Bucky curls a hand around what he can’t reach with his mouth, and laves his tongue over Steve’s cock, follows the vein underneath with his tongue, and scrapes his teeth ever so gently over the head. Works the rest of his cock with the grip he knows Steve loves. Steve shudders.

“God, baby, you always look so good sucking my cock. You love it too, don’tcha, I can tell, you always look like I’ve given you a fucking _gift_ ,” and he tightens his grip on Bucky’s hair, pulling at it as he starts to thrust, “yeah, that’s it honey, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be than on your knees for me, huh?”

Bucky moans helplessly around Steve’s cock, praise and filth lighting him up from the inside. Steve presses his head down, and his cock slides down Bucky’s throat. Bucky swallows around it, feeling tears collect at the corner of his eyes, and looks up at Steve, sliding his tongue along the underside of his fat cock. Steve just stays there for a long moment; Bucky’s nose pressed to the curls at the base of his cock. Bucky can feel his throat spasming around the intrusion, but god, he fucking loves it. Steve’s right - there is nowhere else he’d rather be, than right here, Steve using his mouth and throat any way he likes.

“ _Fuck_ , you’re so good, my best guy, swallowing my cock like you were born to take it.”

Steve yanks his head back and Bucky gasps for breath, spit and pre-come sliding down his face. When he doesn’t immediately jump back on Steve’s dick, Steve taps his face sharply. He wraps a hand around Bucky’s jaw, and pulls him back in. He’s really thrusting now, and all Bucky can do is hollow his cheeks and take it.

“Oh yeah, sweetheart, that’s _it_ , you’re just gonna take whatever I give you. You don’t even care how you get my cock as long as you do, do ya,” and when Bucky moans and closes his eyes, he slaps his cheek again, “no, honey, I wantcha to look at me. Such a good boy, so desperate for my cock you don’t even care if everyone knows what we’re doing in here, do ya? You’d be happy on your knees for me for the rest of your life, just opening wide whenever I felt like it.”

Bucky tries to nod, frantically, tears dripping down his face to mix with the spit all over it. He feels like he’ll catch alight any second; Steve looming over him, fully dressed, while he’s kneeling naked on the floor. All the images Steve’s putting in his head, of just kneeling quietly in the office until Steve decides he wants his dick sucked. Just letting him. Opening wide and letting Steve fuck this throat, the way he is now, whenever he wants.

The thought makes him sob a little; that’s apparently what does it for Steve, because he pulls his cock out and starts jerking himself off. Bucky closes his eyes and opens his mouth, and he can’t help the little groan he lets out when he feels Steve’s cum hit his face, dripping down his cheekbone, sticking in his eyelashes. Steve taps on his lip with his softening cock, before feeding him the tip, and Bucky licks it clean, reverent.

Steve smooths a hand over Bucky’s hair, and sinks down to his knees. He wraps a hand around Bucky’s cock and sets a pace that makes Bucky’s toes curl. He’s pressing kisses to his neck and ear, licking up the column of his throat, murmuring more filth into his ears and Bucky can feel the orgasm rising though him.

“That’s it Bucky, you’ve been so good, lemme see your face as you fucking lose it,” and he’s running his fingers through the mess on Bucky’s face at the same time, spreading it into his skin, “you look so gorgeous with cum all over your face, sweetheart, all mine, and I’ve fucking branded you to prove it, that’s right, come on now, I can see you shaking - ”

And he runs a finger covered in his own release down to Bucky’s ass, and just _massages_ his hole for a second, doesn’t even press inside, and that’s it, Bucky’s gone, hips jerking forward as he comes. Steve praises him through it, telling him he’s good, and that he’s beautiful, and Bucky’s orgasm just keeps going, pleasure running through his veins. He can see white behind his eyes, and he doesn’t know what’s up or down, just his pleasure and Steve’s presence registering. 

When he opens his eyes again, Steve’s sitting down on the floor next to him, running gentle hands over his shoulder, his throat, his chest, his thighs. When Bucky catches his eye, Steve smiles gently and leans in to kiss him. He breaks the kiss and nuzzles into Steve’s neck, and Steve strokes his hair and back while Bucky attempts to get his brain back online.

When he does lean back, Steve’s grinning at him.

“Good?”

Bucky laughs, boneless and sated, and he leans in to kiss Steve again, slowly, just feeling him here with him.

“Whadda ya think, punk?”

Steve laughs then, swatting at his arm, and Bucky reaches over, slotting Steve under his arm and resting his head on Steve’s. They sit like that for a few minutes, catching their breath, before Steve stands up. He offers Bucky a hand, and Bucky gratefully takes it. His legs are still pretty fucking shaky.

Steve directs him into a chair, and disappears into the ensuite. He comes back with a damp cloth, and gently wipes Bucky’s face and dick clean, and hands him a glass of water. Bucky protests a little, more for appearances sake than anything else, but when Steve raises an eyebrow, he takes it.

“Need that lovely voice o’ yours to keep sweet talking me,” and he moves towards the closet, and pulls out one of Bucky’s standby suits, draping it over the desk, “and people who need to fall in line.”

Bucky catches his hand, and pulls him in for a kiss. This is the Steve he finds most thrilling, because it’s one that no-one else sees. Even with his slight build, most people around here are scared of him, rightly so, and the thought that it’s only Bucky he looks after like this always makes him satisfied. They own each other. It’s never clearer than in moments like this.

“Love you, Bucky Barnes,” Steve mumbles into his mouth, “now get dressed.”

Bucky laughs, and starts to get dressed. Once he’s fully clothed again, he sidles over to the bathroom to fix his hair. Steve’s giving him shit for it, of course, but when he walks past Steve’s desk, he leans over it, and kisses him again.

“Love you too, Steve Rogers,” and _delights_ in the soft expression on Steve’s face. This is only for him. All the people demanding Steve’s time don’t get _this._ This is _his_.

***

They’re talking through their options for keeping a closer eye on the bars - after what Bucky’s found out today - when Johnny knocks again.

“Boss?”

“Door’s open, Johnny, come on in.”

The door eases open a touch and Johnny’s freckled face peers through the gap. Steve sighs.

“You think I’d unlock that door if everyone’s dicks weren’t put away? Stop fucking about in the doorway and _come in_.”

Johnny gives Bucky a once over as he pulls up one of the hardback chairs over to where he and Steve are lounging on the armchairs, but Bucky just raises an eyebrow back. Like hell he’s gonna be embarrassed of his sex life. It’s one thing while they’re having sex, their dynamic makes him feel a little bit of shame, but that little prickle of embarrassment gets him hot and Steve _knows_ it. But he’s been wrung out to dry today, so he’s feeling pretty good about it.

Anyway, he reckon Johnny probably doesn’t have much of a sex life.

Steve leans forward in his chair, slides a hand onto Bucky’s knee, and directs a stony gaze towards Johnny. It’s cute, but Bucky doesn’t need protecting from fucking Johnny. He could knock the guy out without even trying too hard.

Johnny’s face goes a little bit pink, and Steve sits back in his chair. He looks satisfied with himself. Bucky internally rolls his eyes.

Their dynamic in front of their lads is always the same; absolute calm and a united front. They don’t even _hint_ at disagreements between the two of them, not that they have many, and the lads always a have firm grasp of what’s expected from them as a result. 

Steve’s built this little empire of his from scraps; Bucky’d be doing him a disservice to make him lose face in any way, shape, or form.

But their relationship is not a topic up for discussion or debate. Oh, sure, Bucky knows it is when they’re not around: there’s debate about which one of them takes it up the ass, why he follows Steve around when ‘everyone _knows_ it’s Barnes who really runs the show’, how and why in the hell two queers flaunt their relationship so fucking openly. He’d be no backup to Steve if he didn’t know about these things.

But to their faces - Steve and Bucky are as good as married, and you respect that. They don’t hide that they’re together, but they don’t get sweet with each other in company. They also need to keep all of their people in line; they don’t need to soften their image none.

Everyone needs to remember they’re both fucking dangerous.

Johnny looks a little chastised, and when Steve waves a hand at him to get him to start talking, it takes him a moment to register what the gesture means.

“Right, yeah, sorry. There’s been additional seizures at the docks again, couple of the boys down there are claimin’ it’s getting harder to overlook things since the senator’s decided to crack down on shipments moving through, so their bosses are all over their asses. I get it. No-one’s looking to lose their job right now.”

Steve sighs, and rubs between his eyes.

“You’ve got a couple of guys that work down there, don’t you James?”

Bucky hums in response, and pulls himself out of the armchair. He wanders over to the drinks cabinet, pulls out three glasses and scoops a little ice into each one. Johnny flicks his eyes over to him once, before turning back to Steve, who looks to Bucky like he’s pretending to think.

“Brandy, Johnny? This is the real shit, too, none of that moonshine shite,” Bucky glances at Johnny when he turns to agree, smiling politely, but fixing his gaze directly on Steve the second Johnny turns away. Steve nods, message received, and Bucky pours all three of them a measure of brandy. He brings two of the glasses over, hands one to Johnny and Steve each, and goes back to the drinks cabinet.

He puts the brandy away, and pulls a handgun out of the cabinet at the same time, tucking it neatly down the back of his trousers. He settles back into the armchair with his own glass and swirls, watching the liquid catch the light.

Steve’s raised his own glass in a toast. “Slainte.”

Bucky tips his glass towards Steve and Johnny both, and watches Steve’s face look blissful as he takes the first sip. Bucky fucking hates brandy, so he continues to swirl it in the glass for another moment, before he pretends to take a sip.

“So, what do your boys down on the docks want? I imagine they want something, because you’ve shown up here,” and Steve’s smiling, but Bucky can see the glint in his eyes that means business.

“Hey now, they don’t want nothing. I just thought you oughta know before some shit got flagged. I didn’t want ya to be thinking any of us was out here stealin’ from ya. This is just a courtesy call.”

Steve nods, “then I appreciate it. Didn’t appreciate your initial timing,” and Bucky’s watching Johnny closely over the rim of his glass, doesn’t miss the tight smile on his face that’s attempting to be polite, “but you know I always appreciate information.” Johnny’s never had a problem with their relationship before. Bucky’ll have to do some digging there.

Johnny nods, takes another sip of his brandy, and Steve looks pensively at him. It’s unlikely that Steve didn’t notice how strained Johnny’s smile was either, but he doesn’t say anything, and Bucky knows to follow his lead.

That’s the thing some of their lads don’t seem to grasp: Bucky’s the point of contact for most of them, sure, he’s the man who makes judgement calls, _sure_ , and he’s the one who knows everything and then some about what’s occurring in their little bit of Brooklyn; but Steve’s the one who knows how to play the goddamn _game._

Bucky wouldn’t - doesn’t - have the mind needed to build and sustain an empire. That’s all Steve. 

They all sit in a silence for a few minutes, Steve and Johnny enjoying the brandy. Bucky’s watching Johnny like a hawk. He’s fidgeting: knee bouncing, hands shifting the brandy glass back and forth. He looks nervous. And that’s making Bucky nervous, cause why in the hell would Johnny be fucking nervous of being here with them?

He’s been a part of the crew for a long time. He’s been in this office a dozen times, often with worse news than what he's told them today.

Steve’s chatting now; Johnny loves a flutter on the boxing matches, and Steve’s always enjoyed talking bets, but Bucky tunes it all out and _thinks._

He’s got a couple lads down on the docks, separate and unknown to the rest of the crew, because as much as Bucky loves them all, the only person he trusts in this world is Steve. He hasn’t heard a thing about anyone cracking down on shipments at the docks. He’s got a guy in the senator’s office too, slips him a couple bottles of the good scotch they get smuggled in every quarter, and he lets Bucky know if the senator’s got any designs on changing policy. Nothin’ serious, just giving him a heads up on shit that’ll hit the papers before it hits the papers.

That guy hasn’t mentioned anything either. So what in the hell is Johnny talking about?

“…Right, James?”

“Mmm, yeah,” he’s got no clue what in the hell Steve and Johnny are talking about, but he generally can’t go wrong with agreeing with Steve. 

Steve’s got that look on his face that means he _knows_ Bucky’s thinking about something, but that he’s been quiet too long, and needs to get involved into the conversation if he doesn’t want to raise suspicions. Bucky nods at the empty glass in Johnny’s hand, asking, and Johnny nods. So Bucky takes his glass off him and goes to refill it.

He can feel Steve’s eye on him, but neither of them say anything as he gives Johnny the fresh glass and sits back down.

Johnny stays a little while longer, finishes his second brandy, but even with the two drinks in him, he never fully relaxes. The whole exchange is grating on Bucky like concrete against bone, pinging that feeling in his guts that something isn’t right here, but he lets Steve wrap up their conversation regardless. Johnny bolts as soon as Steve gives him an out, attempting to smile at both of them as he makes his way out of the office.

The door closes with a heavy thud.

Steve drains the rest of his brandy in one smooth swallow and looks at Bucky.

“What do you know?”

Bucky shakes his head, “not here.” The door is heavy, sure, but everyone knows this is Steve’s office, and he doesn’t put it past some of the lads to listen at the door. “I’ll tell you what I think, but I gotta do some more digging after, see if I can’t connect some dots.”

Steve nods, and stands, scooping up Johnny’s empty glass, his own, and Bucky’s full one. He knocks back the brandy in Bucky’s glass, and drops all three on the side table next to the drinks cabinet.

“Wanna head up to bed? It’s getting late, and I wanna pick your brain.”

Bucky stands, stretches. “You always wanna pick my brain,” he says.

Steve smiles. “It’s a big beautiful brain, why wouldn’t I?”

“Alright, smooth talker, I’m already a sure thing, you don’t gotta flatter me.”

Steve steps in close to him then, wraps his arms around Bucky and looks up at him. Bucky embraces him back, and they stand there for a moment, before Bucky leans down and drops a kiss on Steve’s forehead.

“Yeah, but I wanna flatter you anyway,” Steve says. Bucky laughs at that, gives Steve a squeeze, and moves over the bookshelf.

He turns the hidden handle on it, and pulls it open, revealing the steps that lead up to their bedroom. He looks back at Steve, who’s bolting the door to the office, and starts to head up the steps. He hears Steve close the bookshelf behind them, and they move up the stairs in silence. Halfway up, he feels Steve’s fingers slip through his own, and he clutches them back, always happy to have Steve touching him.

He flips the lamps on in their bedroom, and watches Steve as he strips his suit off, and shoves on an old shirt of Bucky’s to sleep in. Bucky smiles, a little, because he and Steve only wear clothes in the bedroom if they’ve got things to discuss.

He still stops Steve halfway through buttoning the shirt up though. He leans down to kiss him lightly, and traces the tattoo of ‘J.B.B’ over Steve’s heart, the mirror image to his own. Steve shoves him away playfully, and they both settle down into their bed. Bucky shoves his own suit off, draping it over the back of the chair and hoisting pyjama pants up over his hips.

Bucky plonks tomorrow’s newspapers on his bedside table, ready for him in the morning, while Steve fishes his notebook out of his bedside drawer and rummages around for a pen.

“What do you think about Johnny?”

Bucky settles on the bed, propping himself up on his pillows, and watches Steve as he lays on his stomach, face pressed into his own pillow. He reaches out and runs his fingers through Steve’s hair and Steve’s eyes flutter closed. 

“I ain’t heard a thing about additional seizures at the docks. The lads I’ve got down there haven’t mentioned a thing, and my guy in the senator’s office has been mum too.”

Steve hums, sounding pensive. “And he was nervous tonight, weren’t he?”

Bucky smoothes his hand down Steve’s crooked back, feeling the bumps of his spine.

“I knew you noticed it. Lad couldn’t stop fidgeting, looking like he swallowed a damn bee.”

“Gut feeling?” Steve presses up into Bucky’s hand as he talks.

“Not good, honey, I’ll be honest with ya. Feels like he’s lying, but what I can’t figure it out is why, or even why he’s lying about _this_. ’S why I gotta do some digging. There’ll be dots there, I just gotta connect ‘em.”

“If anyone can, it’s you,” and Bucky smiles at the firm tone of Steve’s voice, his unshakeable faith in him. Steve rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling. “What the fuck are we gonna do about the bars though?”

Bucky drags Steve up the bed, so he’s leaning against Bucky’s shoulder, and nuzzles the top of his head. Steve laughs, a tiny little noise, but he burrows himself so close to Bucky that he swings his arm around Steve’s shoulders, keeping him close.

“I’ll keep an eye on the bars. Might hav’ta go talk to the pigs again, see if I can’t figure out who’s spearheading this shite, and talk them out of it.”

“It ain’t right. We’re already paying them a lot to look the other way and give us a heads up, and now they can’t even do that? Two of ‘em raided in a month, with weird fuckers lurking around the rest,” Steve says, grumbling. “I’m gonna have someone’s kneecaps for it, I swear to Christ.”

“Blasphemy,” Bucky murmurs, just to be a shit, and he grins when Steve grabs a pillow and whacks him in the face with it. “I’m only lookin’ out for your immortal soul, Stevie, you think I wanna get inta heaven without you?”

Steve twists then, sitting himself down in Bucky’s lap. “Ain’t neither of us gettin’ there, Bucky, and you know it.”

“Oh?”, he says as he settles his hands on Steve’s hips, “what makes you think we won’t?”

Steve snorts then, and kisses him softly.

“I reckon all the sodomy’s gotta be up there, and then there’s the murderin’, and the stealin’, and the - ” Bucky cuts him off by kissing him again.

“Alright, alright, you’ve made your point.” Bucky takes in Steve’s expression properly, and sighs, “don’t worry about the bars. I got it handled. I’ll ask the right people the right questions and make sure all of that shit stops. You know I will.”

“Yeah, I do know. You’re everything to me, ya know that?”

Bucky smiles, and presses another soft kiss to Steve’s mouth. “As long as you know that you’re everything to me too.”

Steve curls up against Bucky’s chest, pressing his face to Bucky’s sternum, and Bucky wraps his arms tight around him. They just lay like that for a little while, enjoying the moment, but Bucky is actually exhausted from running around all over Brooklyn today, so he nudges Steve a little.

“Come on, take your meds and go to sleep. I’ll still be here in the morning.”

Steve rolls over to his side of the bed, and takes his med bottles out of the drawer. Bucky can feel Steve’s eyes on him as he does a lap of the room, making sure the windows are secured, that the sawn-off under the bed is loaded, that both of them have handguns in the bedside tables, and that their knives are sheathed behind their headboard.

He pulls the covers back, and Steve flicks all of the lamps bar one off, and they lie down together, faces close.

“Somethin’ ain’t sitting right. Kinda feels like a storm of shite that’s rolling in to hit us, with Shaughnessy, and the bars, and Johnny,” Steve’s speaking quietly, but Bucky can practically _hear_ his brain whirring away. He pushes Steve’s hair back off of Steve’s forehead and presses a kiss to his brow.

“Tell you what, I’ll spend the next couple of days lookin’ into all of this, yeah? Put some feelers out, get us some information. And you’ll come up with a game plan,” Steve sighs, but Bucky kisses his forehead again, “we’ve dealt with worse, doll.”

“You’re right. Just all feels odd.”

“I know. You need your sleep though, that brilliant brain of yours isn’t going to come up with any brilliant tactics if you’re tired. Come on, lean on me, get comfy.”

He shifts onto his back, and Steve rests his head on Bucky’s chest, slipping an arm under him. Bucky presses his face to the top of Steve’s head. He’s right, something about all of this does feel a little odd, but he’s got the utmost faith in Steve, and his uncanny knack of making all the right moves.

He feels Steve settle once more, and then he’s asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you (even somewhat) enjoyed me indulging myself! As with everyone else, kudos and comments always make my day :)
> 
> *  
> TRIGGER WARNINGS.
> 
> General TW for violence: Steve is pretty casually violent all round. He burns a man with a cigarette (this is not described in any real detail), threatens to kneecap a few people (this is a passing reference). Bucky is also pretty violent, but this is more casual (he’s happy to kill for Steve).
> 
> General TW for D/s: Steve & Bucky have a pretty heavy power dynamic, but they’re both totally into it, and that comes across onscreen.


End file.
